“Oh?” George looks
up from testing the lines, ties, and cords. “Is that so?” he
challenges. “It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had?”

“It’s the worst
idea anyone, anywhere, has ever had!” I insist over the
rush-gush-crash of the nearby waterfall – the 100-meter-tall!
waterfall which roars white fury into the slippery-rock-ringed tide
pool far, far below us. I resist the urge to let my gaze stray
downward. I will not be mesmerized by the frothing water beast
again.

I shout, “Didn’t
you see that thing on the news about that bungee jumping accident in
Africa?”

“Hush! You’ll jinx
us.”

“We’re already
jinxed.”

“Oh, that’s a great
way to start a marriage.”

“How would you kno—!”
I stop, cough, and sputter. “Marriage? What—?”

He shrugs one shoulder
and glances over the edge of the precipice. “How else did you
think I was going to work up the nerve to ask you?”

“That’s nice,” I
reply in a strangled tone. “Forget getting down on bended knee.
Forget the crowd of on-lookers. Oh, no. You’d much rather
face certain death! Asking me to marry you is the only marginally
better alternative?”